


So Real

by lazarus_girl



Series: Saudade Series [2]
Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It was a simple, tiny mistake, that cost her more than she ever imagined.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Real

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [15genres1prompt](http://15genres1prompt.livejournal.com). Genre: Friendship. Prompt: Lost. 
> 
> Tweaks the established Naomily backstory to include some moments about their younger selves. Set somewhere between 3x01 “Everyone” and 3x02 “Cook.”

The best night’s she’s ever had are unplanned. So rare, so mythic, are these times, that when they appear, unfurling before her, full of promise, she dives headlong into them: says yes instead of no whenever she’s asked something; dances for longer; mixes her drinks; dares to step out of her sister’s shadow. Tonight is one of those nights.

Three hours ago, she was stood at the tail end of a long zigzagging queue, freezing her arse off in a nonexistent dress that Katie forced her to wear, waiting to get into some club she’d never even _heard_ of on the promise that they don’t check ID’s – good job really, because their fakes created on JJ’s computer are uniformly fucking terrible – and the drinks are cheap. It took her five minutes to figure out why, and another thirty to find everyone else. It turned out they don’t check because they don’t care, and the drinks are cheap because they’re high proof and taste like drain cleaner. If she wanted to get drunk in two seconds, and lose her mind soundtracked to dubstep in some dingy, sticky-floored basement with two-hundred other people equally fucked up, then it would’ve been fine, and she would’ve stayed, but she’s been there, done that. Those nights usually ended with her holding Katie’s hair back in some disgusting graffiti-covered toilet cubicle while she threw up everywhere. She’s all about experiences and trying new things, but she’d prefer not to wind up dead and turn into a national statistic, with her school photo splashed all over the tabloids.

If their parents knew the truth, they’d never be let out again.

For once, she wasn’t the only one who wanted to leave, in a rare moment of synchronicity, it was Katie who sought her out first. Usually, they can make even the shittest place seem halfway decent, once Katie’s twisted the DJ’s arm to play better music and they’re up and dancing, but not this time. She looked like she thought she’d catch something from breathing the same air as everyone else, and was in a foul mood after a very public argument with her moron of a boyfriend in the presence of too many camera phones, and was intent on drowning herself in vodka the second they got in. JJ had hid in the corner, scared witless; Effy and Freddie were oblivious, lip-locked in the middle of the dancefloor; Cook was chatting up anything that moved; she found Naomi stood at the bar, surveying the scene – trying and failing to hold a conversation with her, but she couldn’t hear a word. Pandora and Thomas were the only ones to embrace it wholeheartedly, dancing away like no one was watching, but showing off like everyone was, until Effy was forced to step in an rescue her from some random bloke who wouldn’t look out of place on Crimewatch.

The others were harder to gauge. Apart from Naomi – and things are rather awkward there, because Katie just _won’t_ let all the shit from school go, and they haven’t had a real chance to talk because of it – she doesn’t know them very well, and even that knowledge is scant. They aren’t as close as they once were. They’ve only been at college two weeks, and everyone’s still in that ridiculous over-eager phase of wanting to be friends. She’s talked more since coming to Roundview than she ever did at Ashton Park, mostly because she’s terrified of having to endure another two years trailing round after Katie, introduced as an afterthought, never seen as her equal. All together, they look a bit strange, because you couldn’t get a more diverse group of people who have less in common with each other if you tried, but somehow, it works. Maybe that’s why it does.

Cook’s their unofficial ringleader – bit of a cheeky sod, full of himself, but he definitely knows how to have a good time. He’s rarely without his two mates, Freddie and JJ, and they seem to function as one, rather odd unit. Freddie, according to Katie and every other girl in their year, is their ‘eye candy.’ While she can appreciate he’s disturbingly pretty, she doesn’t think he’s particularly interesting. JJ though, is, because she can’t quite figure him out. He’s shy and awkward, but he can be a show-off too, playing up to it when Cook strong-arms him into showing them magic tricks in the common room. Effy’s reputation precedes her, because she’s Tony Stonem’s sister – Katie’s longest-running crush – and everyone gravitates toward her, like she’s made of something different because of it. Katie’s desperate to be friends with her, of course, but the harder she tries with her, the less interested Effy seems. It’s like they come from different planets and no one has a guidebook. It’s driving Katie mad and Effy just feeds off it. The only person who gets her attention without having to say a word is Pandora, a sweet, kind, but rather strange girl, who she’s rather intrigued by, but Katie just doesn’t know how to deal with. What gets at Katie the most is that Effy clicked with Naomi almost instantly, just like she did. Unlike her sister, she thinks Effy’s cool, likes that she’s clever and sarcastic, and can see through all the bullshit and the fawning. People don’t even know when she’s mocking them, and they completely misread her humour. It’s fabulous to watch, like she’s part of something when the gets the joke. It feels like a good thing, like she’s finally beginning to find her place in the world, and meet the right kind of people, different from the ones she and Naomi had to suffer at school.

It was Cook who rallied everyone in the end, as they all stood huddled against the wall in the cold night air, pointing down Bristol High Street like he was fucking Braveheart, leading the charge, sure that the next adventure, the best they’d ever have, was just was around the corner, and beckoned them to follow. Freddie and JJ were the first to go, of course, with Panda and Effy next, arms linked, chatting away conspiratorially. Katie followed soon after, shouting at them to wait, always quick to give in, hating the mere idea of being left behind. Then, only she and Naomi were left. They looked at each other, smiled, shrugged a ‘why not?’ and then set off to catch up with the others.

***

She’s got no idea where they are, or what time it is, but she doesn’t much care. If they were smarter, they would’ve saved some money to get a taxi back, splitting the fare, and they haven’t got a working phone between them. Her battery died ages ago, and Naomi doesn’t have any credit, and that’s not really bothering her either. The stress from earlier in the night is long gone, and the sidelong glances from Katie anytime she got near Naomi aren’t as effective as they once were. Maybe it’s because drink makes them bolder, braver, and brighter, it’s like getting the old versions of themselves back, before everything came crashing down on them. Before that kiss, her first, ever. It was a simple, tiny mistake, that cost her more than she ever imagined.

It’s just her and Naomi now, wandering down some side street she’s never been before. She’s carrying her shoes – Katie’s shoes – in her hand, because the heel broke after they left Syndicate, and her feet are starting to hurt now, cold from the pavement. The group split a while ago, because Cook wanted to go into one place, and Katie into another, even though JJ insisted they should stay together, but no one listened. She was in no hurry to join them, wanting a bit of breathing space from Katie, because there’s only so much of her she can stand when she’s constantly watching her, and ended up staying with Naomi instead. It wasn’t intentional, even if looked like it. It just sort of happened. A happy accident.

She knows all this isn’t really her thing, and it’s probably down to her mum, Gina, that she’s here. After all, not many clubs around here play Slater Kinney and Le Tigre, this is more Rihanna and David Guetta territory. She tried to stay cool, and keep her distance, because she didn’t want to give Katie an excuse to kick off, but as the evening wore on, the drinking started proper, and everyone inevitably started to pair off; she couldn’t stand to see her looking so alone. She had to yell to make herself heard over the music, and even then, the conversation was awkward, punctuated by long silences, but eventually, Naomi started to relax, and she convinced her to dance. She had to practically drag her to the dancefloor – not much has changed since they were thirteen, and she spent school discos on the sidelines, stubbornly refusing to join in – bribing her with the promise of more drinks and a packet of Sovereigns into the bargain. It was worth it just to see her guard drop, for what looked like the first time in a long time.

They’re both well on the way to drunkenness after hopping between different bars and clubs, trying out flavoured vodkas and brightly-coloured cocktails, dancing to electronica and drum and bass under strobes and UV lights. Responsible Emily got packed away after the second club, around the time Effy decided they should do tequila slammers, boys versus girls. If she never sees tequila again, it’ll be too soon, but seeing Katie’s face when Cook hailed her the winner, having out drunk them all, was reward enough. The cheering and the clapping from everyone else was just a bonus. They’re beginning to see that she’s not _just_ Katie Fitch’s quiet twin sister. It’s liberating. When she glanced up, Naomi’s face was the first face she saw, smiling at her. She’s always known that other girl existed.

“We’re lost,” she admits, with a laugh, veering dangerously close to the gutter as she cranes to look for a street sign.

They haven’t seen a sign in a while. They haven’t seen anyone they know in a while, actually. The bars, shops and clubs have started to dwindle, replaced by houses instead. She should be panicked at least, but she can’t or won’t find it within herself. She doesn’t know if it’s the drink, just because it’s night, or because she’s with Naomi, but everything feels different, like they’re in some strange, magical place, entirely separate from the one they’ve grown up in, even if it looks the same.

Free, that’s it, that’s what this feeling is; like anything is possible.

“We’re _not_ lost!” Naomi argues, overly loud, shoving her playfully. “That implies we had any fucking idea where we were going in the first place!”

“Fuck you!” she laughs and shoves her back. “I have a very good sense of direction!”

“Of course you do! Faultless. That incident on the Geography trip in Year 10 was a complete one-off, obviously,” Naomi comments, dryly, barely able to keep the smile off her face.

“Excuse me, that was sabotage! Why would you even bring that up?” she replies, dramatically. Mouth agape in faux shock.

Naomi shrugs. “You walked into it, what could I do?”

“Bitch!”

She shakes her head, remembering the hours they spent trudging through the mud in Yorkshire, listening to Katie, Claire Stevens, Zoe Thomas, and Nicola Dean whinge for England while they chased after Mr Collier’s ridiculous clues, his mantras about bonding and working as a team ringing in their ears. All she learned was how easy it was to get hypothermia, and craft a surprisingly long list of ways to kill Katie and not get caught. It was nightfall before they saw the weak beams of torches, and heard Mr Collier bellowing out their names, flanked by Miss Perry and Mr Taylor, finding the them huddled under trees, teeth chattering with cold. They were off school for a week.

“Fucking Simon Green and Danny Seabourne turning all the signposts round!” Naomi sighs. “Twats.”

That school trip was the last one they had before everything changed.

***

Finally, all the walking takes its toll, and they come to a stop outside a posh-looking house with an immaculate garden, and sit together on the wall. It’s nothing like either of theirs, she thinks, but they can’t possibly be as far out as Clifton. She throws down her shoes and flexes her feet, wishing away the ache and cursing herself for not wearing flat shoes like Naomi instead. Next time, she’s going to wear what she wants. Katie can piss off. She’s had enough of being her project.

When they lapse into comfortable silence, Naomi lights up, passing her the cigarette wordlessly after she takes a long drag. She takes a quicker one, still unused to it because she hardly ever inhales, despite the fact she snuck into the toilets at school with Katie and her mates and played along every time they hung out the window and smoked at break time.

They must look a strange pair, she thinks, sat there, her in a tiny black mini-dress that stops mid thigh, and Naomi in a slightly more modest one – obviously talked into it by Effy – layered with her trademark waistcoat. Their make-up and hair is nowhere near as neat as when the evening began, and cheeks pink from the night air, the drink, and too much time in hot clubs, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s the fact they’re together that matters, and that strange, empty feeling she’s been walking around with for … years, is slowly disappearing.

Suddenly, Naomi nudges her, and cocks her head. “Look where your flawless navigation skills got us!”

She follows Naomi’s eye line, not quite believing what she’s looking at. “Oh my God, of all the places!”

Across from them sits their old primary school, with its shiny red gates and the adventure playground with the slides, swings and monkey bars that caused countless broken arms when people fell off. She’s curious to see what it looks like now, maybe sit on the tiny chairs in the Reception class if they can sneak inside. Whether they can still fit down the slide, or if she can finally get the swing to go over the top like she always wanted to.

“Let’s go in!” she exclaims, excitedly. “Come on, it’s been ages! Remember, we used to do it all the time, with Claire and all them.”

Naomi’s eyes go wide. “Are you taking the piss?” she looks at Emily like she’s insane. “Have those tequila’s finally kicked in?”

“Just come the fuck on, it’ll be fun!”

Naomi groans and flicks away her cigarette. She takes it as a yes and tugs her away by the hand before she can think of arguing. They run across the road, squealing when a car comes at them, despite the fact it misses by miles, spinning each other round and giggling like they’re twelve again.

***

“Shut up!” Naomi hisses, in the loudest whisper known to man.

“ _You_ shut up!” she says, glaring, and then, “Gimme that!” as she reaches for the bag Naomi’s been clutching all night. “What’s in here, anyway, a dead body?”

“Oi!” Naomi exclaims, all too loudly, lurching forward to try and grab at her. “That’s mine!”

She ignores Naomi’s protests, turning away from her grasp, and begins to rifle through it. Then, she hears a familiar sound. The clink of a glass bottle. She grins.

“You bought your own drink, _and_ you’ve been hiding it? You massive snob!” she teases.

“I am not!” Naomi gasps, but then grows slightly serious. “Anyway, I don’t trust your sister not to spike it.”

She turns back to her, answering automatically, “Katie wouldn’t do that.” Still, there’s a tiny part of her that knows her sister might be capable of it. She shakes off the thought, and the twinge of guilt that follows it. “You can’t climb and carry it, so it’s going over first,” she continues, throwing it and her shoes unceremoniously over the fence on to the grass.

“You can go and get that back, it cost me a tenner!” Naomi’s trying to look aggrieved, but she fails miserably because she can’t keep from laughing.

“See, snob,” she nods, pointing at her. “What is it, Pinot Gigot, _darling_?” she reaches for the fence.

“Schnapps, _actually_ ,” Naomi replies, huffily. “Archers.”

“Peach or Raspberry?” she asks, stretching up higher, feeling her dress ride up as she does.

Naomi looks up at her, confused. “What the fuck difference does that make?”

She laughs, loses her grip and slides back down again. “I don’t like the Raspberry one.”

“Who says I’m sharing? You cheeky bitch!”

“That’s not very nice!” she pouts. Her master stroke.

“Fine,” Naomi relents. “If you go and get it, you can have a sip.”

“A whole sip?” she plays along, eyes wide. “You spoil me!”

“Shut it, just get up there.”

“Charming!”

“Always. We Campbell’s are renowned for our charm.”

Now on her third try, she realises, quite quickly, that she’s far too small to reach. She hears Naomi chuckling.

“Fuck sake,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Need some help do we?” Naomi asks in a singsong voice, leaning against the railings, arms folded.

“Fuck you!” she pouts.

They both burst out laughing.

The next few moments unfold like a bad spy film, with lots of pushing, shoving, and swearing. In the middle of it all, she hears the telltale rip of fabric. She ends up falling in a rather unladylike heap on other side. Of course, Naomi climbs up with ease, and swings over like a cross between Peter Pan and Lara Croft.

“Nice knickers,” Naomi crows, grinning, before she drops down off the fence, scooping up her bag.

She sticks her fingers up and shirks Naomi’s hand when it’s offered to pull her up. Naomi makes a face.

Brushing herself free of grass and readjusting her dress, it feels like she’s glowing with embarrassment. “Do you want the whole world to hear? We could get caught.”

Automatically, she spins round, trained to look out for the security lights coming on or signs of the caretaker coming out of his house on the corner by the oldest part of the school. She was always the look out. Always the responsible one. There’s nothing. She’s panicking for no reason.

“Good.” Naomi grins, unphased, twisting the cap off the Archers and taking a long swig, flinching when she swallows. “Now, I know Katie likes to dress you like a baby prostitute, but, is the dress _supposed_ to be like that?” she continues, nodding towards her.

She looks down at herself, horrified when she sees a tear on the right side that effectively splits it to the thigh.

“Shit! Katie’s gonna fucking kill me!”

“Oh fuck it, she probably won’t notice. Anyway, won’t she _like_ that it’s shorter?”

“Naomi!”

“What?” she shrugs innocently, backing away, bottle swinging in her hand. “You know it’s true!”

It crosses her mind that she’s missed being with her like this. Just being together. It’s been a long time. Too long.

Then, she remembers the Archers at more or less the same time Naomi does, giving chase when she darts off towards the slide.

“This isn’t fair!” she whines, as the gap between them immediately opens up. “Puberty turned you into a fucking Amazon woman, my legs are shorter than yours!”

“You’ll have to run twice as fast then, won’t you!” Naomi calls, waving the bottle at her, taunting her with it. “Everything’s better when you work for it!”

“I hate you!” she calls.

“Liar!”

She pushes forward, not wanting to be beaten.

They’re giddy, hyped-up on adrenaline, unsteady as they as they chase each other around the playground, weaving across the hopscotch markings and swinging around the goal nets. They’re six again – back when she, Naomi and Katie were inseparable – giggling and screaming with abandon. It beats anything else they’ve done tonight. She can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. She was always a nervous, somewhat sickly child, but whenever she was well enough to come to school and play, Naomi always came up with the best games and always made sure to include her, no matter what that others thought. She defended her just as fiercely as Katie did, protecting her from anyone or anything that got in her way. Naomi’s always protected her, even if when she was old enough to look after herself.

They go twice round on the slides and the seesaw, teasing each other with playful banter. She nearly breaks her neck on the latter when Naomi steps off it too fast and tips the balance. Then, they resort to the tiny tricycles left in the corner and she’s almost crying with laughter at the sight of Naomi trying to balance the bottle between her knees and peddle at the same time. Eventually, they just end up running again, and she almost catches up with Naomi when she stands on the roundabout looking particularly smug, but it doesn’t last long, especially when she toys with starting it off spinning. Naomi’s eyes widen, and she sets off running again.

It’s ridiculous, but she still feels slightly naughty, being here now, trespassing on school grounds like this, but that’s what always made it fun. There was just enough thrill. The best part was when the caretaker would come out and try to chase them all off. They were too quick at thirteen, and he was too slow and fat at fifty-odd, and the other girls would taunt him for it. She feels a weird sort of sympathy with him now, as her chest and legs are starting to burn a bit now from the exertion, reminding her in no uncertain terms that she’s _definitely_ not six anymore, and it might be time to stop with all this ‘social smoking’. She thinks she might collapse at any moment, and it seems she’s not the only one.

“Oh fucking hell, that’s it. That’s enough!” Naomi concedes, breathless, clinging on to the chain of a swing.

“Jesus, I thought you where never going to give up,” she lets out a long breath, taking the swing next to Naomi’s. “It was much easier when we were six, wasn’t it?” she laughs.

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t start smoking until I was seven,” Naomi begins, feigning wistful nostalgia. “All downhill from there, really.”

“Tragedy!” she plays along again, falling easily into old habits.

“And yet, you still laughed,” she smiles, tipping the bottle towards her. “Admit it, you’ve missed my comedic wit.”

She nods. “I have,” she means it, and the moment threatens to turn serious until she hides it by taking a long gulp of Archers. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Naomi echoes, with a laugh.

It tastes as shit as she remembers from when Claire used to bring it from home, and they’d sit here on freezing cold school nights, doing this very thing, the other girls screaming like banshees as they flung themselves down the slide and across the monkey bars. The peach flavour is far too strong; sickly and thick, it practically coats her tongue. Now, the burn of it as it goes down her throat has a rather delicious kick to it that she didn’t appreciate before.

***

They alternate between swinging and drinking, because doing both at the same time takes co-ordination and motor skills they no longer possess. It’s like some weird, fucked up version of the tea parties they used to have as little girls. That happy, warm feeling is back.

“What happened to them, anyway?” Naomi asks, out of the blue as she slows her swings dropping down from high and fast, to barely moving at all, lighting up for a second time.

The click of her lighter sounds disproportionately loud.

She turns to her, steadying her swing to stop it from moving. “Who?”

“The Bitches of Clifton,” Naomi clarifies, voice laced with disdain and then amends, “Claire and all that lot.”

“Zoe moved to London with her dad when her parents split up. I see Nicola sometimes, she goes to Mayberry’s Ladies College.”

“How the fuck did she get good enough grades to get in there?!” Naomi scoffs.

“Fucked if I know,” she shrugs, tailing off. “Mum was on the PTA wasn’t she?”

“Stuck up bitch,” Naomi stubs her cigarette out angrily. “Speaking of bitches, what about Claire?” there’s a waver in her voice that betrays her.

“Claire’s got a kid. She’s with Danny Seabourne now I think. He works in Greggs.”

“Fuck me!” Naomi breathes, taking the bottle back, and drinking again. “Karma’s a bitch, hey?”

They don’t talk for a moment, because the past’s crept up on them again. Inescapable. It was at Claire’s party that they got drunk on whisky from her parents stash when Simon broke the cupboard in the study open. The MDMA tab that they split and shared was given to them by Claire’s older brother, Tim from a stash of his own. The combination of the two lead to them kissing on Claire’s bed; pressed up against the bank of pillows and cuddly toys. Even though it was Katie who found them, and started the name-calling and abuse at school when Naomi refused to say it wasn’t her fault, Claire was the one who rallied the other girls and turned them against her. Claire was the one who threw the first punch when words weren’t enough.

At the memory, she gulps in air, sobering. She swats at a tear that falls unexpectedly, hearing the chains of Naomi’s swing jangle musically before there’s a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumps at the contact. Naomi’s fingers are cold.

“Oi, you can’t be in the weepy stage yet, you aren’t drunk enough!”

She watches the bottle, two-thirds empty, drop from Naomi’s other hand. It lands with a dull thump in the grass and rolls away from them.

“Sorry, it’s just …”

“Yeah, I know, Naomi says, softly. “We’re alright now though, aren’t we? Character building,” she smiles weakly.

“Don’t do that,” she shakes her head, angry. “Don’t treat it like it was nothing, Naomi. They hurt you.”

“Yeah. Both of us.” Naomi replies, sadly. “But they’re not worth worrying about, OK? Not now. Not anymore.” she turns to her, reaching forward and brushing away a tear.

She takes a breath, tries to push away the guilt, knowing Naomi’s right. She has to let it go. She can’t let those girls win again. Naomi puts a hand over hers briefly to comfort her. It works the same as when they were little, for skinned knees and cut fingers. For when they weren’t so little, and she broke her arm after falling from the apple tree in Naomi’s garden.

When Naomi’s hand moves away again, that’s when she sees it. There, hidden amongst the multitude of other bracelets Naomi’s wearing is something familiar, something she never thought they’d see again. When they were eleven, before it was decided where they’d go to secondary school – her mum was still intent on her and Katie both going to Mayberry’s, even though they couldn’t really afford it – she made her and Naomi friendship bracelets braiding together blue, pink and purple threads; their favourite colours, so they’d never forget each other, even if they didn’t see each other every day. After the kiss, Katie made her cut hers off and throw it away. She’s regretted it ever since. Of course, she and Katie never went to Mayberry’s, and they saw each other for six hours, every day, five days a week, but it was never quite the same. It couldn’t be. They may as well have been in different countries.

“You kept it,” she says, feeling tears prick at the back of her eyes for an entirely different reason. She reaches, touching it, just able to see fraying threads in the dim light.

Naomi looks down and smiles. “I did,” her face flushing with embarrassment when she adds, “I thought about cutting it off, but, it didn’t feel right. It doesn’t just go away,” Naomi’s voice is quiet and shaky, the way it always used to sound whenever they talked about things that were serious or important.

“I never forgot you,” she hears herself say, voice breaking.

She’s caught then, part of her wants to cry, part of her wants to smile, and the rest of her hug Naomi for all she’s worth, with no idea which should come first. She shakes her head in reply. It’s all she can do.

“One last swing for old time’s sake?” Naomi says, after a moment, and she nods, because it feels fitting.

They lean back as far as the chain allows and push forward with everything they have. She closes her eyes when it gets towards the top, letting herself, and the past, go.

“Three … two … one,” they say in unison, looking at each other, smiling, readying themselves to dismount when they pass each other again.

They go too high, like she knew they would, and lurch forward when they let go of the chains, tumbling on to the grass, doubled over with laughter.

***

They lie next to each other, looking up at the sky, everything else forgotten. It doesn’t matter that the grass is wet and will stain their dresses. It doesn’t matter that the sky is cloudy, so they can’t see any stars like they used to. She’s been waiting for this moment. Longing for it, without really knowing. She’s wanted to repair things between them for such a long time, but it felt impossible and out of reach, millimetres from her grasp. And yet, it’s happened, _is_ happening, unfolding before her like a gift not quite unwrapped. The best kind of secret.

It’s her favourite time of the night though it’s really almost day. Where everything is still and calm, like they’re the only ones alive in the world. She feels like same kind of peace whenever Naomi’s with her. Then, as if sensing that very thing, Naomi’s she feels Naomi’s hand brush against hers, and she slowly laces their fingers together.

“I missed you,” Naomi admits, quietly.

“I missed you too," she replies, squeezing Naomi’s hand that bit tighter.

She turns, and sees they’re much closer than she thought they were. Naomi’s eyes are brimming with tears. Only when a hot tear rolls down her does she realise she’s crying too. They’re sad tears, for what they’ve lost, but happy tears, for what they’ve gained; that they’ve somehow, against all odds, managed to find their way back to each other. Naomi leans forward, and their lips brush, briefly, just once. The energy she can never explain is there, just like she knew it would be, and then gone again, just as fast. This time, there’s no one there to judge. No scrambling panic to distance themselves from each other. Nothing at all. She opens her eyes, and they smile at each other. There are no words, they don’t need any. That’s it, they’re restored. Her world rights itself.

She’s missed her for a long time, but it’s only now that she realises how much she’s truly missed _her_. Missed that connection, that closeness that people are forever telling her she should feel with Katie, but never really has. That’s genetics, DNA, biology, but this is more difficult to pin down. She’s never really been able to explain it. It’s not love, not the romantic love everyone’s obsessed with finding, having, and keeping – though, of course she loves her, she probably always will – but it’s not just plain, fickle, friendship either, it’s something else. It’s bigger than them, bigger than this city, bigger than she can fathom. She’s determined to keep hold of it for as long as she can.


End file.
